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Patient Bear

The life of Dima Chernekov.

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This is my application story, hopefully I am whitelisted. When I was first writing I didn't quite know where I was going with it so just bare with it. I know it's long and I understand if you don't read it all but I'd really appreciate it if you could give feedback. Thanks guys :)

Name: Dima Chernekov

Place of Birth: Chernarus, Berezino

Occupation: Hunter

I guess it all started when I was thirteen and ran away from home. My father was a drinker. I guess that’s where I get it from. He used to beat me like a dog. That is all I remember of him. As for my mother I have no recollection of her at all. At age 13 I had realised enough was enough. I ran away from my home and never looked back.

During this period I learnt pretty quickly how to look after myself. How to shoot. How to skin. How to keep warm. How to survive. I used to do frequent trips to all the deer stands in search for supplies left from other hunters. These trips proved quite fruitful. I used to find water bottles, knives, ammunition. Eventually I found my first rifle. A 1981 CZ 550 Bolt Action Rifle. I still carry that weapon to this day.

When I was 14 I came across an abandoned blacksmith’s workshop in the woods near Popeda dam. These are the fondest memories of my childhood. Waking up to the sunrise over the mountains, hunting through the day and swimming down by the dam of an afternoon. The dam wasn’t in use for some time due to the possibility of it being affected by radiation. Perhaps that water is what started all this. Served me alright though.

Anyway, here I was living the good life. It was quite some time until anything changed really. I began to grow lonely as the years went by. It had been so long since I had any interaction with anyone before. I considered going into the town and looking for my family. But flashbacks of my father’s bruised knuckles beating down on me soon dismissed that idea.

When I was 17 I decided to leave Chernarus and head north into Russia, in search of a new life. I packed up my belongings and headed for the mountains to the north. I had ventured over them before but I had never gone too far as I didn’t want to be out in the night.

It was late of an afternoon during this venture, just as I was beginning to make a fire and skinning a freshly shot rabbit when I heard it. A terrible roar. I scrambled for my weapon and assumed a defensive position behind a great oak.

The noise happened once more. This time it was louder. It sounded from above, in the sky. A great helicopter was piercing through the pink clouds above. There were tens of them. Nearly fifty I would guess. I was in awe. I found myself frozen. Paralyzed at the sight. What did it mean? Were they Russian? They couldn’t have been Chernarussian. They were coming from the north.

I panicked and ran. With nothing but my rifle, knife and a canteen. I ran faster than I had ever ran before. I felt adrenalin pumping through my body. I didn’t even know why or where I was running. But I kept going.

Eventually I ran out of breath. I came to a stop and realised what I had done. I was lost. I tried to gather my bearings but I was unfamiliar with the terrain. It reminded me of my times back with my family. I was scared, disorientated and lost. I cursed myself for being so stupid. I decided to rest for the evening and try to retrace my steps once I could see again.

Any attempts at sleep were futile. I found myself gazing at the stars. Questioning what I saw. I was fascinated. Hours had passed and I began to nod off. My mind was settled. This momentary tranquillity was brought by the light of a torch. It lit the clearing I was resting in. I began to hear voices. They were Russian. And they did not sound welcoming.

“What is that? Over there!”

At this point I knew I was done for. I rose from the ground and surrendered to the men, waiting for my impending doom. They grabbed my arms and covered my head in a bag.

“Take him to the truck,” one said.

Thoughts flooded my mind during that ride on the truck. It seemed I had looked over my entire life. Each day, hunting in the woods, lying under the stars at night. Yet it all went so fast.

The engine stopped and was accompanied by the sound of the screechy old roller door opening. I was prodded in the back by what felt like a gun stock. I was led into the room and they removed the bag above my head. There were others. Young men, even kids, ones just like me. The soldiers explained to us the situation.

“As of this evening the 17 of July 2012, the Russian Federation is invading Chernarus. War has been declared. You, sons of Russia have been captured in the woods. Let us tell you this, you cannot hide from conscription, you cannot hide from the all seeing eye of justice. You will serve your nation on the front line in the fight against Chernarus. Those of you who were captured with weapons will be reinstated with them in the morning when training begins.”

The door was closed with a bang. An eerie silence occupied the darkness of that room. I knew the room was full of others yet no one spoke. And if the others were anything like me, no one slept.

As promised, I was reunited with my rifle. It was the only thing I had grew fond of throughout my life, as strange as it sounds. Training went quickly for me as they saw I knew how to handle my weapon. Before I knew it, I was given a uniform and had boarded another truck. I couldn’t socialise with the others too well as I wasn’t familiar with the language. If any. All I knew is that I was now invading my homeland with a bunch of foreigners.

The truck left the main road and headed east. I saw a familiar land mark. It was the great oak. We were in Chernarus. I knew this land better than anyone. About an hour had passed and we reached a large mountain with a small camp at the peak. I knew exactly where we were. On the most north eastern part of Chernarus there is a military airfield near the town of Kraznostav. I assumed we were raiding the Chernarussian base and clearing out enemies.

The man who was in charge told me to watch over the others with my rifle. I did as I was told and waited on the hill. I watched the others move down the onto the airfield. I saw movement at the hangars. It was not one of ours. I scoped in on the enemy. He was unarmed. I had never shot a human before. Let alone an unarmed one. As my finger neared the trigger the human began to run. However not away, in fear.

He ran directly at my party.

I watched as the man lunged at one of my own. I was shocked. The man was brought to the ground by a flurry of bullets piercing his flesh. What kind of man would willingly die like that? Why wouldn’t he run or even surrender?

For the next 30 minutes nothing much happened. The part returned up the hill. They were discussing what had happened down there.

I did my best to question them. At was at this moment I understood. I understood what had happened. Why we were here. And most importantly what that ‘man’ was.


We were well and truly into the apocalypse by now. It was estimated that 75% of Chernarussion population had turned. We were stationed to North of Vyshnoye in the woodland. I was in charge of bringing in a steady supply of food through the wildlife in the area. Our squad had been significantly reduced to just 7 now so this task was not as difficult.

I had also begun to pick up the language once again. We were composed of mostly Russians with a few Chernarussian in the mix as well. Any conflict between the two groups was no longer due to the severity of the situation. It was all about surviving now.

It was the middle of the night. There was no moon however. Complete darkness occupied the camp. I still had difficulty sleeping and tonight was no exception. The silence was broken by gunshots. We had had sick people come to the camp before but we normally took them out with melee weapons, not to attract unwanted attention. These guns also were not familiar. I arose from my rucksack in order to see what was going on.

Shots continued to crack through the camp. It was at this point in time I knew they weren’t zombies. They were humans. I grabbed my rifle and ran straight for cover behind some ammo crates that we had found on a trip to Starry Sobor. A man wandered right passed me who was not one of my own. I jabbed my combat knife into his left kidney and immediately fled the camp, never looking back.

Some may call me a coward for what I did. But this apocalypse is about survival. I do not regret what I did that night, however I know I will be forever in debt to those who fell. And I believe surviving this shit is the best way that I can honour their sacrifice. And that is exactly what I intend on doing.

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